


In Another Life

by Aeruthin



Series: Original Family Short Stories [6]
Category: The Originals (TV)
Genre: A what if story, Alternate Universe, Canon-Typical Violence, Elijah is the youngest child, Family, Family Feels, Freya is not taken away, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Their family is still a mess
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-10
Updated: 2020-04-10
Packaged: 2021-03-01 18:43:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,318
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23581807
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aeruthin/pseuds/Aeruthin
Summary: When Dahlia comes to take Freya, Esther offers her another deal.Fifteen years later, when Freya, Finn and their youngest brother Elijah spend time at the annual summer fair, Elijah meets a mysterious woman who looks strangely familiar.Who is she, and what are those whispers of children's laughter he hears?
Relationships: Dahlia & Elijah Mikaelson, Dahlia & Esther Mikaelson, Elijah Mikaelson & Esther Mikaelson, Elijah Mikaelson & Freya Mikaelson, Elijah Mikaelson & Klaus Mikaelson, Freya Mikaelson & Esther
Series: Original Family Short Stories [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1475669
Comments: 6
Kudos: 34





	In Another Life

Focus.

The rock lying in front of him is about the size of his fist. Cracks on its side trace an intricate pattern. One he would be able to draw from memory by now, given how long he had been staring at it. 

_Move, you stupid rock._

The rock remains as still as it has been since Elijah had placed it on the grass about a quarter of an hour ago.

With a frustrated growl, he flops on his back and stretches. The summer sun beats down and sweat trickles down his forehead. 

Opposite of him, Freya raises her eyebrows. 

"You weren't focussing," she chides. Her legs are folded beneath her in a way Elijah can't believe is comfortable, and her hands rest easily on her knees. Small butterflies are perched on her hair like a crown. Sometimes, Elijah wonders if she is not the goddess herself, appearing to them in human form.

"I was," Elijah says, unable to keep the whine out of his voice. He sits back up, grabs the stone and throws it against a nearby tree. "See, it moved."

Freya shakes her head, but smiles, so Elijah considers it a win. Out of the three Mikaelson siblings, he is the only one not considered a magical prodigy. Freya can bring dead butterflies to life, and Finn can fell trees with his mind, but Elijah hasn't even been able to move a pebble. His mother says she doesn't care, but she has been watching him wistfully whenever she thinks he isn't looking. 

Honestly, he can't be sure why he even bothered to try. He stands and brushes the grass and sand of his trousers. 

"I'm going back to town," he says. Every year, they travelled to one of the larger towns to replace broken gear and resupply for the winter. Villagers from all over the countryside gather outside in large tents, and merchants from distant shores come to sell their wares. With the long summer evenings, every day turned into a festival, and musicians and theatre groups provided entertainment. 

Freya nods. "I'll follow you later," she says. "Please try not to get recruited. I'd hate to tell Mother you became a flutist."

Elijah makes a face, but secretly, it does sound appealing. He'd be able to travel the world, and wasn't creating music just another kind of magic?

It takes some time to walk back, but he can hear the sounds from the distance and smell the scent of a large group of people gathered together. It is very different from the quiet of their own village, and Elijah increases his pace. He enjoys the walk, remembering clearly when an illness had forced him to remain in bed for a whole summer. He had gone nearly crazy with boredom, and it had taken him even longer to regain his strength.

Soon, he finds himself surrounded by other travellers, carrying all kinds of wares and dragging along mules, chickens and other animals.

Elijah darts past a woman herding three goats, and pushes through a group of young men arguing fiercely at a merchant stall. The smell of food and people, combined with the sound of laughter, music and shouting merchants is nearly overwhelming, but he lets himself be swallowed by the chaos. He doesn't have any coin on him (- _if you don't have it, it can't be stolen_ \- his father had said), but he is happy enough just to look around. 

As expected, a group of musicians erected a small stage around a large tree in the middle of the encampment, and a crowd has formed around them. Elijah prepares himself to push through to the front, but before he does, his gaze catches on a woman, sitting lonely at a small table tucked between two tents. The people streaming past her all seem to ignore her. 

Curious, Elijah approaches her discretely, trying to get a glimpse of what she might be selling, and why the others don't even spare her a glance. But before he can see anything or decide to go back, her dark eyes snap up, staring directly at him through the crowd. 

Elijah freezes, his cheek burning as their eyes meet, embarrassed. Any excuse gets caught in his throat. 

"Come then, child," she says. Her voice is a low rasp, but still harmonious, and a shiver runs down his spine. Cautiously, he steps closer.

"Hello," he says, just to break the silence. The sounds of the marketplace are muffled in the background. "Are you a merchant?"

"Curious thing," she says. Her hair is a dark brown, bordering on black, and reaches past her shoulders. Her face looks familiar somehow, but Elijah can't quite place it. "Please, sit."

Elijah sits down on the small stool in front of the table. Had it been there before? He couldn't remember. 

"I am not a merchant, dear. I am a witch."

My mother is a witch, Elijah wants to say, but instead he just nods.

"I can read your fortune, if you'd like. I will just need your hand."

"That's only superstition," he says. It is possible to read the future, but it took integrate magic and planning, his mother had explained. Palm reading was nonsense.

The woman raises her eyebrow. "An expert, are you? Give me your hand. Now." 

Elijah obeys, placing his hand on the table. He swallows as the woman grabs his wrist with her long fingers. They are strangely cold where they touch his skin, even in the summer heat.

"There," she mutters, pulling his arm closer towards her. She is smiling, and her face contorts, nearly hungry. Instinctively, he tries to pull away, but her fingers tighten painfully around his wrists. His heart is pounding, and darkness seeps in on the edge of his vision. In the distance, he hears a child's laughter, hollow and far away. What is...

"Elijah?"

Freya's voice shatters the moment, and Elijah can move again. He jumps up, knocking over the stool, and scrambles backwards. 

"That's my sister," he explains breathlessly, flashing a fake smile at the woman. Freya waves at him from across the square and starts walking towards him. Finn and Klara, his sister-in-law, are at her side, and Elijah sighs in relief.

"Is she now?" the woman asks, her voice low. 

"I have to go, I'm sorry," Elijah says. He is eager to leave, but as he looks down, his reaction seems silly. Her face is normal again, and hunched at the table she looks feeble and small. 

"No matter," she says, smiling. "We might see each other again."

Elijah nods, and runs away. Freya frowns as he grabs her arm to pull her in the opposite direction when he reaches her.

"Who was that?"

Elijah shrugs. "No one," he says. When he looks back, the woman is gone. Far of in the distance, he imagines he can still hear a child's laughter ringing.  


* * *

  
Elijah allows Finn, Klara, and Freya to distract him for the rest of the day, and the cold and darkness seem more part of his imagination in the bright summer sun. Still, he can't shake the unease which has settled over him, even as he deflects Freya's concerned gaze with a smile.

They meet up with their parents during the evening meal, at one of the many places where tables had been put down, and fill their bowls with stew and meat. Soon, the fires would be lit, and the dancing would start. 

"Did you enjoy yourselves?" Esther asks, her eyes twinkling. 

"Elijah met a woman," Freya says. Elijah glares at her, but their Mother's face is already splitting in a knowing smile.

"A woman? Do tell me more."

Elijah rolls his eyes. Finn had married Klara nearly two years ago, and ever since his Mother could not leave the issue alone. 

"Mother, stop, she was way too old," he says. "She just wanted to read my fortune, that is all."

"Do not worry, son, there is time for you yet," Mikael says. He has his arm around Esther, his hand resting on her hip. "The Gods will bless you, as they did me when they brought me your Mother."

He kisses her on the cheek and she hums, one hand on his knee. 

"And me Klara," Finn adds. 

"And me Magic and Power," Freya grins. 

"Yeah, I'd rather have that," Elijah mutters. He stands and grabs the bowls, ready to be done with the conversation. The washing place is slightly outside the main area, near the small stream running through the encampment, and he has to stand in line before it is his turn. As he waits, he can hear a soft melody over the murmur of the crowd. Try as he might, he isn't able to identify the instrument. Was it someone singing? If it was, he had never heard someone with such a clear voice. 

Elijah frowns, intrigued, and finds himself walking towards the music. The man standing behind him in line shouts something at him, but Elijah ignores him. Vaguely he realises he must have left the bowls behind. No matter. He could grab them afterwards.

He steps into a small enclosed area. The opening of all the surrounding tents face away, except for one. The melody is clearly coming from inside, and Elijah pulls away the flap.

Inside, candles have been lit, heating up the already warm air. An expensive table is set in the middle of an intricate carpet. The pattern on the carpet is familiar, like cracks on a rock. 

"Welcome."

The woman appears from out of the shadows, her raspy voice mixing with clear tones.

"Please, enter. I was waiting for you."

The warmth of the tent is suffocating, and yet a shiver runs down Elijah's spine. He feels dizzy, and the lines of the carpet twist and turn in concordance with the melody. They stretch out towards him, pulling him closer, and he stumbles inside the tent.

"What do you want?" he manages to say. His tongue is thick and heavy in his mouth, and his mind is sluggish. He has to run, he knows, but the world has become small, limited only to this tent. Outside, there is nothing. 

"That is easy, my dear," she answers. "I want what is mine."

The woman places a hand on his cheek, and the warmth leeches out of him. 

"Who...?" Elijah rasps. 

"How rude of me," the woman whispers. "I have not introduced myself."

She forces Elijah's chin up. Her hand trails down and rests on his neck, and her thumb presses against his Adam's Apple. Elijah is breathing heavily. He wants to scream, push her away, do anything, but his body refuses to move.

"My name is Dahlia." 

She takes a step back and throws her arms to the side. Her head leans backwards as she starts to chant. It reverberates through him, and as the flames of the candles burst up high, shadows dance across his vision. In the distance, the children's laughter rings out again, clearer and sharper than before.

"Yes," Dahlia says. Her dark eyes are wide, and a grin splits her face. "You belong to me."

The pattern rises from the carpet and crawls across his skin. It tightens around his throat and slither into his mouth. Elijah gags and thrashes, desperately trying to get away. His legs buckle beneath him and a sharp pain stabs through his knees as he crashes into the ground. 

The laughter turns into a high pitched scream.

It pierces through all other sounds, shattering the melody, and splintering the pattern, and he takes in a deep, grateful breath. 

And then the screaming stops. 

As if in the eye of the storm, everything around Elijah has gone deadly silent. Dahlia is still chanting, her eyes closed and her fingers extended like claws, but no sound reaches him. 

Something stirs behind him, and slowly, Elijah turns around.

Four shapes are silhouetted in the darkness. Two of them appear to be moving closer, and as Elijah waits, he can discern more and more features, until finally, two young children stand before him. The two other shapes remain nearby, as if waiting for them to return.

The boy is slightly taller than the girl, but both have similar blonde hair and striking blue eyes. Elijah has never seen them before, but he knows them intimately. 

The boy lifts his hand, and slowly, ever so slowly, Elijah reaches out to him. 

"Elijah!"

Before their fingertips meet, the darkness shatters. The four figures flee, and the world around him is once more thrown into chaos. 

Elijah realizes he laying on the ground. He is shivering violently, all warmth drained from his limbs, and he can barely raise his head. 

"How dare you!" Dahlia roars at the intruder. Vaguely, Elijah recognizes Freya standing over him. Her anger makes her glow.

"Don't you touch him!" she snarls. Magic flares from her fingers, and Dahlia stumbles back. And then Finn is there as well, his sword drawn. He starts chanting, and Dahlia screams. 

With a final wave of her hand, she is gone, leaving the three Mikaelson siblings in the centre of a destroyed tent.  


* * *

  
Finn gathers up Elijah in his arms, and Freya escorts them as they stride back to their family's tent.

When Elijah had failed to reappear, Freya had gone after him. She had found the bowls disregarded at the washing place, and her concern had spiked. After sending a quick magical warning to Finn, she closed her eyes and searched for Elijah's magical signature. Before she could locate him, a sudden increase in magical power nearly knocked her of her feet. 

When she had seen the woman standing over her little brother's still form, she had feared him dead, and her world had stood still. 

As they approach the tent, Esther comes running towards them. She must have felt the burst of power as well. Her face pales when she sees Elijah in Finn's arms.

"Quickly," she urges, holding open the front flap. 

"Place him on the bed," Esther orders. Her hands expertly roam over Elijah's skin, checking his pulse and temperature. Elijah curls into himself as soon as Finn places him down. He is shivering, and awfully pale.

"It was that woman," Freya says. "She did something to him."

"It looked like a draining spell," Finn adds. He has used his magic to light up the fire, and is pouring water into a large bowl. 

Esther's gaze flickers to Elijah. She seems distressed, but not surprised. 

"Mother, what is going on?" Freya asks in a low voice. 

Esther looks up, startled. She swallows, and schools her face. "We must focus on your brother. Let's get him warm."

Freya frowns, but complies. She pulls Elijah into her arms and drapes the blankets around them. Elijah leans into her gratefully, and presses his head against her shoulder. 

Finn is crushes some herbs, and their sweet smell fills the tent as he drops them into the water. They are meant to elevate natural resistance, and gradually, Elijah's tense body relaxes against her. 

The flaps of the tent opens again, and all four of them flinch. 

"What happened?" 

Mikael enters frantically, sword ready to be drawn.

"Mikael, we have it under control," Esther says soothingly. 

"Under control?" Freya says, her arms tightening around Elijah. "She nearly killed him."

"Who?" Mikael growls. "Who hurt my son?"

Esther remains silent, but her shoulders are drawn tight. 

"Dahlia. She said her name was Dahlia."

Elijah's voice is barely more than a whisper, and his eyes are unfocused. Still, Freya sighs in relief and presses a kiss against his forehead. 

"Dahlia," Mikael repeats. "Your sister, Dahlia?"

Freya freezes. "Sister?" she demands. Finn seems to be as confused as she is.

"You said she was gone," Mikael says. "You said that she would never return."

Esther swallows. "Let me..."

"Why is she here?" Mikael yells. For the first time since Freya can remember, her Father sounds genuinely afraid.

"I did not have a choice." Esther draws herself up, squaring her shoulders and staring Mikael down. "She would have hurt you. All of you."

"What did you do?" Freya asks, dreading the answer. 

All eyes are focussed on Esther now. Elijah has pushed himself up, and Freya is not sure if she is holding him up or he her. 

"I could not bare children," Esther says. "So I made a deal."

She pauses.

"I did not know what it would cost me. Had I known, I would never have..."

"What did you do?" Freya asks again in a whisper.

"Dahlia granted me with children. With you." 

Esther takes in a deep breath. "She asked for one thing in return. My first born child."

Desperately, Freya searches her mind. Had Esther been pregnant before? Had there been another child? But she is sure, sure that there isn't. But their mother can't mean...

"Freya," Esther continues. Her voice hardly registers. 

"When she came for you..."

"You would give me away?" Freya says in a small voice. Elijah's hand tightens on her arm.

"I would not!" Esther's eyes flare, and Freya recognizes her fearless, powerful mother again.

"I offered her something else. You see, all she wanted was power."

Esther's gaze lands on Elijah. "I am so sorry," she whispers.

And Freya realizes the truth. Elijah's strange illness five years ago, and five years before that. And even directly after his birth, he had been so weak she had prayed to all the gods who would listen to save her little brother. 

"You offered her Elijah's magic," Freya whispers, aghast.

The flap of the tent blows open, and Dahlia is standing in the entrance.

"Thank you, Sister, for explaining why he is mine."

Now she knows the truth, Freya can see the resemblance between the two women. They stare at each other, polar opposites and yet horribly similar. 

"Die, you witch!"

Out of nowhere, Mikael charges, slashing his sword at Dahlia's head. 

With a snap of Dahlia's fingers, the sword slips from his grip, and at the next, a horrible crack echoes through the tent. Mikael yells, clutching his broken forearm. Feebly, he tries to grab his sword with his left hand, but at another wave of Dahlia's hand, he crashes to the ground. 

"Stop!" Esther says. "Please."

Dahlia scoffs, but turns away from him. Mikael groans, but does not move. Freya's heart is hammering in her chest. She tightens her hold on Elijah, as if she could protect him by sheer force of will.

"A deal is a deal, my Sister," Dahlia says.

"You took too much!" Esther says. "That wasn't the deal." 

Dahlia shrugs. "It is tedious, coming here once every five years. Give me all if it now, and I will leave you alone forever."

"That will kill him," Freya snarls. 

"It might," Dahlia says. "But then again, you were never supposed to live to begin with."

She throws her arms wide, and Freya is flung out of the bed. Her mother and Finn are down as well. 

Freya lets her own power rise within her. She twists her wrist and sends out a force wave. She might as well have done nothing. Her aunt does not even blink. 

"Dear child, you think you can oppose me? I am prepared now."

Freya want to cast another spell, but her magic slips like water through her fingers. 

"That is better," Dahlia crones.

She strides over to the bed and drags Elijah to the center of the tent. He struggles, but he is no match for her in his feeble state.

"Now, let's finish what we started, shall we?"

She throws Elijah to his knees, but keeps her hand under his chin, forcing his head up. Softly, she begins to chant. The candles in the tent flare to life, casting shadows on the tent cloth.

Elijah screams. He leans back, but Dahlia holds him in place, her eyes closed. Freya pushes herself up, struggling closer. She can barely breathe, as if all the air has left. Finn is lying deadly still, as is her mother. 

The shadows dance around them, and through her hazy vision Freya imagines she sees figures in the darkness. 

And like when she was a child, she prays. Prays to all the gods she knows to save him, to spare him. To keep her little brother alive. 

As if on command, Elijah's hand snaps up, closing around Dahlia's wrist. The shadows take on the form of four figures, taking up position behind Elijah. Dahlia snarls and tightens her grip, but Elijah stares up at her. With a strength Freya does not recognize, he pushes himself to his feet.

"They defeat you," Elijah says. His voice is raspy and heavy, with a maturity far beyond his age. 

"What?" Dahlia barks.

"We defeat you," Elijah repeats again, stronger this time. And the shadows swell around them, accompanied by laughter and voices, echoing through the tent.

 _Look, Elijah_ , a phantom of Esther says, holding an infant in her arms, _this is your little brother_.

The shadows merge and dissolve.

 _Your aim is improving,_ a young Elijah says to the young boy next to him. Both are holding a bow. _Maybe next time_.

A fireplace, and four children. _Give it back, Kol!_ a girl with blond hair yells. Kol laughs, dancing away from her, while the other two boys watch.

Screams, and the snap of a whip.

 _Father!_ an older Elijah yells, trying to intervene. Mikael easily tosses him off, and turns back to another figure lying on the floor. A blond young woman rushes in, holding a sword. _I will not let you hurt him any more._

The images rush by. Of a family, living together, sometimes lovingly, sometimes at each other's throats.

Until a young man's scream echoes through the tent, followed by a heart wrenching wail.

Esther makes them drink wine, and Mikael plunges a sword in their chest.

 _Always and Forever_ , three voices whisper.

The images go faster and faster, rushing through ages and times with technology and people which Freya can hardly recognize. Pain and joy follow each other in a rapid succession, too dazzling to make sense of. 

Until at once, they halt inside a crypt.

 _The girl is carrying your child_ , Elijah says in a deep, mature voice, and a man responds, _Hope, her name is Hope._

And then Dahlia is there. _The child is mine_ , she says.

Esther, her wrist shackled in chains, approaches her.

_Do you still hold so much anger for me? Even after all these years?_

_You left me_ , Dahlia responds. _To marry that brute of a man. And now, you will lose the last of your children._

Freya realises she herself is there now as well, where she has been missing from all the previous scenes. She is on her knees, with tears streaming down her face. 

_At least let me make amends,_ Esther says. _Let me share with you, the freedom I have found... in death._

She throws the chains binding her around Dahlia's neck. For a final time, she looks back at her children.

_Elijah..._

And phantom Elijah throws the weapon to his younger brother, who slams it into both their chests. 

The shadows shatter, but a phantom dagger remains, penetrating the chest of the real Dahlia. In shock, she tries to pull it out, but her fingers slip through the darkness. 

Slowly, she falls to her knees. 

Elijah stands over her, still holding on to her wrist. Behind him, four silhouettes remain. Two of them disappear, but the last two linger, flanking Elijah until the very end.

"They defeat you," Elijah says again. 

Dahlia screams and twists her fingers, but nothing happens. Horrified, she stares up at him.

"Let's make a new deal, shall we?" Elijah whispers, his tone cold and calm. "Your magic... for our lives."

Dahlia's hand drops away. She sags to the side, her hands pressed to her chest. 

For another beat, Elijah stares down at her. Then he sways. Freya finds she can move again, and she rushes forward, catching Elijah as he collapses. When she presses her fingers against his wrist, she can feel the slight pulse of his heartbeat.

The two remaining silhouettes stand over her, a boy and a girl with golden hair, just like hers. 

"Thank you," Freya whispers. They nod to her, and, as if blown away by gust of wind, disappear.  


* * *

  
After it is all over, the incident is rarely mentioned again.

Dahlia is alive, but has become a shell, and hardly the woman she once was. Esther takes her away, with the promise that, in a year's time, Dahlia could come to their village. They build a small house for her on the outskirts, and like promised, Esther visits her nearly every day, to take care of her like a sister should.

Freya does not. It takes Elijah the rest of the summer to recover, and Freya will never forgive her aunt for nearly taking her little brother away.

Elijah insists that the last thing he can remember is entering Dahlia's tent, and then waking up in bed after everything was over. For the most part, Freya believes him. But once in a while Freya sees him shivering even in the heat of the summer sun, his eyes flickering to images only he can see.

Freya continues to practice magic. During one of the summer fares, she meets a woman with black hair, and after a while, she moves in with her. 

Part of her regrets not having any children, but as Elijah holds his first born son in his arms and beams up at her, so knows she will love her nephews and nieces as she would her own.

"What is his name?" she whispers, careful not to waken the child's mother, a red headed woman Elijah has deeply fallen in love with.

"Niklaus," Elijah says. "His name is Niklaus."

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading!


End file.
